"Yes, but she left Mrs. Werner's last night, and you know where she is now."

The arrow was shot at a venture, but it told. Esther coloured and looked confused.

"Come now, tell us where she is," said Mr. Forde in his mildest accents.

It was not of the slightest use trying to fence with the difficulty, so Esther grappled it.

"I do not know, sir," she answered; thinking she might as well tell a sufficient falsehood when she was about it.

"That is not the truth," remarked Mr. Forde.

"And if I did know where she was, sir," continued Esther, "I should not give her address to you or any one else without her permission."

"You are all a pack of thieves and swindlers together," observed Mr.

Forde; including, with a comprehensive glance, Meadows and the two men and Esther, in the statement levelled against the Mortomley establishment; "and I don't know that I ought not to give you all in charge for conspiracy. I will send for a policeman, and see if he cannot induce some of you to find your tongues."

"I wish you would hold yours for a while," interposed Kleinwort. "Fact is, my good peoples, we want to see that dear, distressed Mrs.

Mortomley, and do much good to her and that poor invalid husband, and after a day or two it will be too late by far. You come with me," he added, addressing Turner; "you, I see, have brains and can understand; let me talk with you."

And so he and Turner walked into the conservatory.

"I will give you one--two--dree--foar--five gold pounds, if you get me the place where to find our little lady," he remarked.

But Turner shook his head.

"I can't get it for you," he said.

"But that maid so nice knows where she is. You worm it out of her. You extract that knowledge."

"No, sir," answered Turner. "I will not. I am not aware she has the slightest idea where her mistress is; but if she has, I am not going to pump her to please you. Put up your money, sir. God knows I have always thought badly enough of our calling, but I think it respectable in comparison to the callings I have seen followed by rich people since I came here; and badly as I want five pounds, if I could take it to play the spy on a lady like Mrs. Mortomley, I ought to be shot--that is what ought to be done with me; and I have no more to say."

"What can these beastly English brutes see in that Mrs. Mortomley to make them loyal so senselessly," considered Mr. Kleinwort. "She has not golden hair like mine dear wife, nor eyes so blue; nor presence so imposing; nor that red and white so lovely; neither is she house-mistress so clever; nor big brains as have some women. All she seems to be owned of is a sharp tongue and a big temper. But these Bulls are so stupid, they like to be goaded; they need not repose at home, as do we whose heads know no rest abroad."

For above an hour the pair remained at Homewood, thinking what could be done, but every one about the place they found either senselessly honest or stupid beyond belief; and at last, wearied and angry, Mr. Forde returned to the kitchen, and addressing Esther, remarked, "I suppose if I leave a note here, Mrs. Mortomley will have it?"

Then answered Esther demurely, "I'm sure I don't know, sir; you had better ask Mr. Meadows."

"What the ---- has Mr. Meadows to do with the matter," inquired Mr. Forde.

"Only, sir, that he sends all my mistress' letters to Mr. Swanland,"

explained Esther, delighted at a chance of at last airing that grievance.

"What does she mean?" inquired Mr. Forde, turning to Meadows.

"Nothing, sir, only that Mr. Swanland, as trustee, of course opens _all_ letters."

Whereupon Mr. Forde made some remarks about Mr. Swanland, which, though a true chronicler, I must refrain from setting forth in print.

"I should think, sir," suggested Esther, when the storm had blown over a little, "that, if you sent a note either to Mr. Leigh or to Mrs. Werner, my mistress would have it. She is quite certain to send her address to them."

"Look here, my girl," said Mr. Forde, "I will give the note to you, and trust to chance. If Mrs. Mortomley has not given her address to you, which I believe she has, she will within twenty-four hours. Give me pen, ink, and paper."

And though letter-writing was against all Mr. Forde's principles, he thereupon sat down and wrote a note to Mrs. Mortomley, stating with what regret he had heard of her consulting a solicitor, and asking for an interview which he had no doubt would prove of ultimate advantage to all concerned, "including Mr. Mortomley himself."

When he had finished, he laid the envelope and a florin on the table and summoned Esther.

"That is the letter," he remarked.

She took the letter and pushed aside the florin.

"My mistress left me enough money, thank you, sir," she said; "and I would rather not take any more from any one."

Mr. Kleinwort shrugged his shoulders as she retreated, and his friend pocketed the florin.

"Asherill had reason," remarked the German.

"What reason, and for what?" asked Mr. Forde.

"He would do nothing with those people," was the reply; "and, my faith, before you have finished, I think it may come to pass you shall wish you had let them choose their own lawyer, their own trustee, and liquidated their own estate for their own selves."

"But you yourself advised--" began Mr. Forde.

"Advised on your story which you swore was true. You said Mortomley was shamming sick; that the nephew was a rogue and fool combined; that the little woman had her own fortune secure; that besides, they had made one great _coup_, and put away money beyond count. Ah! bah! you great, stupid head--these two, man and wife, have been as senselessly honest as foolish, as even I, looking around, using my eyes, using my ears, can see, and you had better have treated them as such. Now I have said my say, now do as you like for the future."

"You are a clever fellow, Kleinwort, but you do not understand England or English people."

"That may be well," agreed Mr. Kleinwort, with a face like a judge, all the time he was laughing to himself at the innocence of his companion.

As for Mr. Forde, what he liked to do in the future was this.

When Mrs. Mortomley received his letter she sent it to Mr. Leigh, requesting him to attend to it; and although the lawyer considered it a somewhat curious and involved epistle, he repaired forthwith to St.

Vedast Wharf.

Mr. Forde was within and visible.

"I have called," said Mr. Leigh, after the first ordinary courtesies had been exchanged, "to speak about a letter you sent to Mrs. Mortomley a few days ago."

Mr. Forde rose and put his hands in his pockets. "You will not speak to me about it, my good sir; depend upon that," he observed.

"I think you must have misunderstood me," ventured Mr. Leigh in amazement.

"No, sir, I have not," was the reply. "I wrote a friendly letter to Mrs.

Mortomley, and instead of coming to me herself she sends a lawyer. I will have nothing to do with you, sir. There is the door; be kind enough, as you came through it, to go out through it."

"Certainly," agreed Mr. Leigh, "but--"

"Leave the room, sir," roared Mr. Forde. "Will you go out of the premises peaceably, or must I put you out?"

"Mr. Forde," remarked the lawyer, "you must be mad or drunk. In either case I can have no wish to remain in your company. Good morning."